


Anchored in Dust

by biscuit (vital_root), keroseneSteve



Series: Drought [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arc Reactor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Palladium Poisoning, Pepper Feels, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Raging Shitstorms, Secret Identity, Tony Feels, Violence, nobody's ready for this, things explode because Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vital_root/pseuds/biscuit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/keroseneSteve/pseuds/keroseneSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHIELD finally captured the pseudo-terrorist Iron Man, aka Tony Stark, after several years of searching. But the man is near death, and SHIELD can't find a cure for him. Fellow fugitive Bruce Banner has that cure; however, he was forced to hide from SHIELD in Wakanda. With Tony's time running out, Bruce unable to help, and the world wondering where Iron Man went, the last thing SHIELD needs is another problem. </p><p>Such as, maybe, a leak from within their walls telling the rest of the world that the long-dead Stark is alive in America.</p><p>Or Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. an important visit

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are! This is going to be interesting. 
> 
> So, if the summary wasn't enough to have you running in the opposite direction, you should probably read Circles of Rust, the first in this series, before trying this fic out for size. 
> 
> Anyways, there will be a pause before I really start posting, and that's because there are a metric fuckton of problems that need to be addressed in this fic. I am not kidding. If you thought the last chapters of rustfic were a mess, you're going to cry once I figure my shit out. 
> 
> Thanks to vital_root for betaing, and bro c for the support!
> 
> Uhhh, so, enjoy! I hope! Tell me what you think!

Pepper Potts faces her newest, biggest problem with the strongest show of professionalism she can muster. Back straight, eyes clear, expression neutral. 

Pacing up and down a hospital corridor. 

Her heels click on the linoleum flooring, louder than the murmurs of the crowds she passes every time she circled back around. She's checked herself in the mirror four times in the last hour and found nothing, not even a hair, out of place. She looks the same as she did when she walked into this hospital building: hair in a neat ponytail, immaculately pressed suit jacket and skirt, Tony's favourite of her pink blouses (no, she didn't forget, even when everyone else did), and grey pumps to complete the simple look. Even so, she feels horrendously underdressed. 

She smooths the front of her jacket down again, refusing to admit she's as nervous as she is. Though, if she’s perfectly honest with herself, she has every right to be. It’s not as if she was expecting to get a call from some shady government agency telling her that they’ve got her dead boss in their custody, could she please keep this a secret and maybe come talk to him so they can figure out if she can make him cooperate? 

So here she is, standing tall and proud and terrified of seeing Tony Stark again after nearly four years, in front of the mirrors of the women’s bathroom. 

Get ahold of yourself, Potts. 

It’s just Tony Stark, after all. She spent ten years wrangling him into submission. There’s no reason to be anxious about it now.   
Except it’s been three and a half years and from what she’s heard from Agent Coulson, this Tony Stark is an entirely different creature. 

Oh god, Pepper moans internally, she can’t do this. 

But isn’t this what she wanted? A miracle? She spent all these years under Stane wishing she could put Tony in a headlock and drag him out of the shop. She’s daydreamed about the banter between them down in the lab. Hell, she’s even longed for the days where she had to drag him hungover out of bed to sign some papers. And now that she’s gotten her wish, she should be happy. Thrilled, even. But all she can work up is worry. 

Because she’s standing in a hospital, on a floor with many doctors and high security. Nobody’s been able or willing to answer any of her questions, Tony’s in a room thirty feet away, there are people everywhere, and Pepper can’t figure out what she should say to him. What do you even say to a man who’s been out of your life for so long? Much less your ex-boss?

 _In a non-romantic sense,_ she reminds herself. There may have been something there three and a half years ago, but now there’s only confusion and worry. 

Pepper takes a deep breath.  Procrastination doesn’t get people anywhere. 

One step. Another. She steps away from the mirror on the wall and marches back into the fray. Look at it like a business meeting. Get in, say what needs to be said, visit again if necessary.

Right. 

All her determination grinds to a halt, however, when she hears someone call her name. 

"Pepper!"

It's a familiar voice, even through the rasp and the faint accent around the 'r'. It's tired, different, and she spent ten years listening to it. 

Pepper turns, and there he is. 

She'd like to say she recognizes him the moment she lays eyes on him, but she doesn't. It takes her a long moment to connect what she sees--a thin, sickly-looking man with too-long hair, a week's worth of stubble, and a shaky grip on his IV stand--to her memory of Tony Stark. But it is indeed him, looking in her direction and smiling. She stares a few seconds longer before hesitantly returning that smile. She can't parse any real emotion from the chaos raging in her heart. 

Fear. Surprise. Excitement. Anticipation. A thrill of something undefinable crawling up her spine. 

 _Say something,_ she urges herself. _He's standing twenty feet away from you. Open your mouth and speak!_

But then he looks down and oh. There's a real smile spreading across his face now, as he stares at her ankles and Pepper is so horribly confused-- 

Until a ginger bundle brushes past her legs to sprint in his direction. Tony welcomes it with open arms, releasing the IV stand to crouch next to it. The thing tackles him in the chest, visibly knocking the air out of him but he's grinning so hard it looks like it hurts. His arms curl around the small creature and it purrs loudly enough for Pepper to hear, twenty feet away and apparently invisible. 

"Ah, Pepper," he's saying, holding her close, but that's all she understands; everything else that comes out of his mouth is spoken in a language she doesn't understand. 

It's a cat, she realizes. A cat named Pepper, crawling all over his chest and shoulders and pressing its nose to his neck and cuddling up in his arms, and Tony seems to be perfectly content with sitting on the floor and hugging it. 

It's clear the cat is named after her, and she isn't sure whether to be honored or hopelessly envious of the little ginger beast. 

Has that cat been there for him these last few years? 

She should go talk to him now. While he's right there in front of her. There's no way to avoid it any longer. She can just go up and-- 

"Excuse me," she hears, and automatically steps aside for a huge bald man with a SHIELD t-shirt. He smiles kindly at her. "Thank you," he says, and ducks past other people to approach Tony. "Acervi," he says sternly, still smiling. Another jumble of words in a language she's heard once today and then, "Tony."

Tony cringes theatrically, peering up at the stranger with a sheepish smile. He responds in the same language. The large man shakes his head and bends down to help Tony up, hands on his arms for support with the cat still cuddled up to his chest. Tony shifts to hold the cat ( _Pepper)_ in one arm, the other reaching out to the IV stand, still chattering away with this man who seems to know him as they make their way slowly down the hall. Pepper watches them turn into a room and close the door behind them. 

One deep breath. Another. Mind made up and feelings a mess, she ducks back into the bathroom to collect herself. 

It takes nearly an hour for her to compose herself and work up the nerve to talk to him (again). Pepper runs a hand through her ponytail one last time, detangling one last snag, before stepping out of the bathroom and walking straight to Tony's room. 

It's a closet-sized place, with clean white walls and silver machinery. Tony's sleeping in the only bed, set along the opposite wall. He looks pale and disheveled, hospital gown damp with sweat. The covers have been pulled up to his chest, where the same cat from before has curled up. It looks up as she opens the door, fixing her with a hard, blue-eyed stare. Pepper (herself, the human) glances between the cat and its human. The cat yawns, showing sharp white teeth. 

In the hallway, a soft voice announces over the intercom that visiting hours are over for the day. 

She sighs, inching out and closing the door as quietly as possible. It hurts a little, to not have been able to see him. 

 _Tomorrow,_ she assures herself. It never hurts to have another day to plan things out. 

Besides, she decides, he's already got a Pepper by his side. 

It just goes to show, she supposes. Tony can't go on for long without a Pepper to lean on. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all.

He wakes to a white eggshell ceiling. There’s a quiet, rhythmic beeping echoing in the small room he’s found himself in. His whole body is curiously numb, yet hypersensitive, so he can safely say he’s on a lot of drugs; then again, maybe it’s just the absence of pain for the first time in months that’s causing the disorientation. He moves his arm, slowly, just to prove he can. The sheets are scratchy, a cheap polyester blend unique to military hospitals. He always suspected they’re so stiff and uncomfortable to make bleaching out the bodily fluids easier. 

 

Tony wonders when he’s going to see Sarvankar next. The man had sat with him the first time he awoke, ready to explain everything he’s been told.  _ Doctors are unsure of what to do about your arc reactor _ , he reported, _ and have been scanning it in an attempt to understand it.  _ By all rights, he’s heard, the reactor should be impossible: not just what it does, but its very existence baffles the best engineers.

 

“Did you tell them I’m a genius?” Tony had asked, eyebrows raised. It’s about the only thing he can physically do with any confidence. 

 

Sarvankar smiled. “I did,” he promised, “but I don’t think they really understood it until that moment.” 

 

SHIELD, they call themselves. No one seems willing to share any details other than that. It’s an acronym, he knows that much, but his old boss doesn’t remember all of it. One Agent Coulson had told him, Sarvankar mentioned, a couple of weeks ago when he’d been taken in. 

 

Tony remembers SHIELD. They’re the people who were after Bruce, the reason the pair had gone on the run in the first place. They’d talked about danger, confinement: these people had no good intentions when it came to the Hulk.

 

_ The Hulk.  _ That was the last time he’d seen Bruce. Possibly the last time he ever will. The guilt burns in his chest and eyes. He was horrible to his friend in their last moments together. The fact that they had to split up at all is his fault, too. 

 

He stares up at the ceiling and wonders when Bruce will give up looking for him. 

 

Visitor hours are once again over for the day, but he’s allowed to keep Pepper with him. That fact still confuses him, just a little, because what hospital allows cats to run rampant around the place? He’d had to go looking for her yesterday, for Christ’s sake, and it wasn’t fun. The doctors have him hooked up to  _ nine  _ different machines, and he’d had to unhook himself and drag his IV stand along to go find her. The nausea alone had almost put him back on his ass, but fuck these doctors anyway for not telling him what sort of tests they’ve been running on him. 

 

Outside his room is a cacophonous disaster of white coats and professional suits and eyes in his direction. He’d  _ just  _ managed to spot Pepper amongst the uncaring masses; his blurry gaze had caught a flash of ginger at eye level, but he’d reasoned with himself that cats wouldn’t be allowed to climb people’s shoulders and refocused on the floor. When he finally spotted her, he called her over, scooped her up, and got Sarvankar -- who’s been wearing SHIELD-issue attire since they took him in weeks ago -- to help him retreat back into his room, where it’s nice and quiet and  _ bland as hell.  _

 

Pepper has since taken to pacing the length of his bed several times before jumping up and curling up on his chest, the way she did in India. It’s one soothing thing in a world of stress and loss. A world he’d thought he’d be free of. 

 

A knock on the door draws his attention. It’s sharp and professional, as much as a knock can have a tone. He calls out to welcome them in, voice harsh and weaker than he’s strictly pleased with. Hospitals are terrible. 

 

His doctor opens the door and slips in, followed by two nurses and an agent that closes the door behind them and stays there. Doctor Garcia is an older man, with salt and pepper hair and smile lines for wrinkles. He hunches over his clipboard a little, but seems friendly enough. 

 

“Hello, Mr. Stark,” he says in a good-natured voice, and offers a smile. Tony’s lips press into a thin line. After years of living the way he has, he’d sort of mentally shaken off the name Stark. It’s not the most pleasant feeling to be hearing it again. “How are we feeling today?”

 

Tony takes a pointed look around at the beeping machinery and says nothing. 

 

“Good point!” Garcia says, hefting his clipboard. He flips through a few pages and pulls a pen out of his pocket to scribble a few notes with. “Do you feel like telling us exactly what that machine in your chest does?”

 

_ As if.  _ He watches the nurses check the readings on the machines and stays quiet. 

 

“Fair enough,” the man concedes. “After all, from what we’ve been able to discern, it’s acting like a pacemaker for you. Your heart’s taken a lot of damage these last couple years, hasn’t it?” 

 

He’s been speaking clearly in English the whole time. The sound grates, just a little. 

 

Garcia hums. “Well, Mr. Stark, I’m going to be frank.” He looks up from his clipboard to stare at Tony. “It doesn’t look good. You’ve been suffering from heavy metal toxicity for a very long time. It’s been building up for years and at this point, it’s almost too late to repair the damage. 

 

“That said, our machinery has been doing its best to combat the poisoning. With your permission, I’d like to try dialysis as an aid in cleaning the palladium from your bloodstream. This means, Mr. Stark, that you won’t be getting up and chasing after your cat for a little while.” This last part is added with a quick grin and a flash of humor. 

 

“It won’t stop it,” Tony finally says in Spanish. 

 

“Well no,” Garcia switches to the same language without missing a beat. “But it’ll give us enough time to try to figure out how to take another step further. That is, removing the problem entirely.” 

 

“You can’t,” Tony states. 

 

“We can’t take out the machine itself, no,” the doctor concedes, making a note. “But we can try to find a way to eliminate the palladium. I take it you’ve been thinking about this problem yourself?”

 

“Endlessly.” 

 

“Right. Well, what we really want are results, right? And the quickest way to get them would be to take out the problem. For this specific issue, the machine in your chest is not the problem, it’s what’s powering it. If you’re willing to work with our engineers, we can find an alternate power source to keep you going until we reach a permanent solution.” 

 

“And what happens after?” Tony demands. The doctor pauses in his note-taking to listen. “What happens after, if you somehow manage to  _ fix the problem,  _ which, so far you’ve all done a great job of that, thanks, dragging me away from the actual solution. You’ve been dogging Bruce for who  _ knows  _ how long, and then you started chasing me, too. I want to know  _ why,  _ I want to know  _ how, _ and I want to know  _ now. _ ” 

 

“Of course, Mr. Stark.” 

 

The answer didn’t come from Doctor Garcia. Rather, it came from the unassuming agent who’s been standing by the door for the last several minutes. Tony turns his head to glare at him, but the agent’s poker face doesn’t so much as flicker. 

 

“I’m Agent Coulson,” the agent says. “And I think we have a lot to talk about.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you're still here. c':


End file.
